Destinations Across Paranormal America

Destinations Across

Paranormal America

by Hugh Mungus

CreateSpace

© 2010. Hugh Mungus

First Edition

All Rights Reserved

ISBN-13: 978-1463738242

ISBN-10: 1463738242

CreateSpace

7290 Investment Drive, Suite B

North Charleston, SC 29418

This book is dedicated

to seeking the truth.

Table of Contents

Introduction 1

The Ghost Bus of Highway 93 (Arizona) 3

Dulce's Deadly Ditch (New Mexico) 11

An Entombed Extraterrestrial (Texas) 19

The Lompoc Giant (California) 25

A Gravity-Defying Staircase? (New Mexico) 33

The Legend of Ephraim Gray (Massachusetts) 41

The Kingman UFO Crash (Arizona) 49

An Invisible Portal in the Desert (New Mexico) 61

The Meanest Ghost Ever? (South Carolina) 67

Mobsters, Monsters and a Bottomless Pit (Nevada) 75

The Mysterious Thunderbird Photograph (Arizona) 83

High Strangeness at the Skinwalker Ranch (Utah) 89

Epilogue 115

Bibliography 117

About the Author 127

Author’s Note 129

1

Introduction

So, the paranormal doesn't exist, does it?

Well, considering this book was written on a com-

puter, and 200 years ago such an invention was

fantasy, it stands to reason fiction has become fact.

Much of what was paranormal two centuries ago

(automobiles, credit cards, lasers, plastic, robots,

space travel, television, etc.) is normal, today.

The following is a compilation of locations within

the U.S. purportedly inundated by the paranormal.

Some of the subjects, herein, may be nothing

more than great campfire stories, while others

might be built upon foundations of truth.

Your task, as a researcher, is to investigate these

sites and determine if the otherworldly exists. Grab

your road map to Area 51, a case of something

Destinations Across Paranormal America 2

fermented, and an inflatable Oprah love doll.

Follow Rob Halford's timely advice and head out

to the highway!

What you discover today may positively influence

the world, tomorrow.

Hugh Mungus

3

The Ghost Bus of Highway 93 (Arizona)

Joe mentally massaged the waning motor of the

massive monolith.

"C'mon. C'mon!" the frazzled bus driver pleaded

beneath breath wreaking of black coffee and Win-

chell’s finest.

Through a veil of sweat, the coach operator fixed

his gaze on the pinnacle of Union Pass 200 yards

in the distance. The bus' air conditioning had

committed suicide just outside of Wickenburg. Joe

felt like the pie portion of a TV dinner, bubbling

and sizzling inside this metal coffin baked by the

Arizona Sun. Less than a quarter of a mile, now.

The remainder of the way was a breezy, downhill

slope into Laughlin. Blue smoke billowed from the

rear of Number 777, obliterating the highway

behind the bus from Hell.


"You can do it, baby. You can do it!" Joe coaxed.

Snake eyes. Detroit steel groaned, emitting its

death knell. Joe muscled the vanquished beast to

the shoulder of the turnpike. Drenched in per-

spiration, the driver's trembling palms never got a

firm grip on the wheel. Even before applying the

emergency brake, Joe caught sight of the irate

passenger marching toward him from the back of

the vehicle. Squinting into the rear-view mirror, the

motor coach operator noticed a change in the

commuter’s appearance. The once-feeble tourist

now seemed a hulking beast, no longer human.

Joe gazed back just in time to see the hoard of

passengers, an entire bus worth, descend upon

him like a lynch mob. Docile Sun City geriatrics

now sported hideous features only the mother of a

demon could love.

The driver gasped in terror. His world went black.

A breeze cooled the blanket of sweat covering

The Ghost Bus of Highway 93 5

Joe's brow. Regaining consciousness, the coach

operator opened his eyes. Mojave Desert Sun fried

his pupils. Where the hell was he?

Joe glanced about. He was lying on his back in

dried, red caliche. His once-crisp uniform was

covered in the stuff. He detected the sounds of

passing automobiles somewhere beyond his feet.

By the position of the Sun, it couldn't have been

much later than noon.

Through a mire of heat, Joe recognized his bus,

Number 777, now being pushed uphill by a gag-

gle of demons resembling his most recent passen-

gers. At the helm of the vehicle was the old man-

turned-Devil who had led the mutiny. An evil

smile gracing his black lips, the senior citizen-

cum-incubus glared back at the bus driver.


It was then Joe noticed the icing on the cake.

Those blue-haired bastards had stolen his shoes.

Barefoot and confused, the coach driver watched

as the troupe of fiends pushed the deceased bus

to the crest of Union Pass.

Did somebody spike his coffee this morning? Was

any of this even possible?

Joe stared, mouth agape, recalling how fervent the

elderly group had been in their quest to reach

Laughlin, and gamble their pensions away. Sure,

everybody loves sittin' shotgun in Lady Luck's

Gran Torino. Even Joe secretly enjoyed a pull, or

50, on a slot machine handle, but this bunch had

been abnormally obsessed from the beginning.

After the air conditioning had gone on the fritz, the

driver recalled asking the passengers if they wan-

ted to head back to Phoenix. A collective “No!”


thundered from the rear of the bus. Not a hint of

doubt in a single voice.

When the behemoth began losing power around

Wikieup, Joe had inquired if the assemblage of "Q-

tips" prefer he radio back to headquarters for a

climate controlled vehicle.

An old man, Metamucil caking the corners of his

mouth, leaned in and croaked, "We'll push this

damned bus all the way to Laughlin if we have to,

sonny! Those slot machines ain't waitin'. You just

do your job."

Had this little guy, all of 80 pounds, really threat-

ened Joe? What's more, had Joe been scared?

Now, from the driver's vantage point in the dirt, it

appeared as though the geriatric was about to

make good on his promise. Joe watched Bus 777

reach the top of Union Pass and disappear over


the decline on the opposite side. The group of

devilish seniors followed suit. Propping himself up

on his elbows, the driver wondered, "Had it all

been a nightmare?"

A hundred and twenty degree heat is nothing to

fool with, but then how did he end up here along

the shoulder of the highway, not a town in either

direction for 10 miles? Plus, Joe recalled having

kept in contact with dispatch throughout his entire

ordeal, informing headquarters of the paranormal

conundrum unfolding around him.

Wearily, the coach operator rose to his feet. He

turned toward the crest of Union Pass, and stum-

bled forth. Laughlin was beyond the horizon, but

he was certain to hitch a ride during midday. After

all, spirits don't appear until nightfall, right?

It's known as the Ghost Bus of Highway 93; a.k.a.

the Grim Weeper, and according to certain motor-


ists between Kingman, Arizona, and Laughlin, Ne-

vada, its ethereal form still exists.

Wayfarers heading northwest from Wickenburg

have reported sighting spectral Bus 777 careening

across the desert. Most encounters occur in the

small hours, when drivers are traveling alone.

The vehicular apparition appears suddenly in

your rear-view mirror, headlights ablaze, purport-

edly weeping molten chrome. Without warning,

the behemoth devours your car, as you fight to

retain sanity. Clearing your front bumper, the beast

dissolves into the roadway illuminated by your

headlights. The vacant seats inside your auto-

mobile become inexplicably occupied by ghostly

passengers. Before you've wrangled your car to

the side of the road, your otherworldly travel com-

panions have vanished. You're left along the

shoulder of a darkened highway, in the middle of


nowhere, wondering if that signpost up ahead

reads, "The Twilight Zone."

The day trip from Phoenix to Laughlin for a few

hours of moderate stakes gaming is one under-

taken by folks all the time. Buses akin to that of the

infamous 777 run the route on a constant basis,

and the stretch between Turnpike 93 and 68 are

well-traveled.

Should you find yourself in Arizona, thirstin' for a

duel with a one-armed bandit, take a leisurely bus

trip to Laughlin. Besides the opportunity to win a

fortune, you may be in for the ride of your life. The

Ghost Bus of Highway 93 is spotted, to this day,

anywhere from the former mining town of Wick-

enburg, to beyond Union Pass along Highway 68.

11

Dulce's Deadly Ditch (New Mexico)

"It's time for the truth to be brought out in open con-gressional hearings. Behind the scenes, high-ranking Air Force officers are soberly concerned about UFOs. But through official secrecy and ridicule, many citizens are lead to believe the unknown flying objects are nonsense.”

— first Director of the CIA, Vice Admiral

R.H. Hillenkoetter, Retired


You've tasted a Dempsey Roll from the Manassa

Mauler. You spent the previous evening watching

spook lights dance around a rural graveyard in

Silver Cliff, Colorado. You've scanned the skies for

extraterrestrial spacecraft at the UFO Watchtower.

Exhausted, you hop on the wrong freeway in your

travels back to Santa Fe. Your lids become heavy.

You merge onto the 17. Fate eases you over the

magnetic asphalt of Highway 64. You slap yourself

silly, whilst singing along to Wang Chung's great-

est hit. You need sleep, but instead you get an eye-

ful of something hideous lumbering through your

headlight beams.

Brake pedal finds floorboard as you narrowly miss

hitting the seven foot tall half-bat, half-man limping

across the blacktop. The abomination vanishes

into the underbrush on the opposite side of the

road. Realizing you're in the middle of nowhere,

you glance around for some point of reference.

Dulce’s Deadly Ditch 13

Moonlight illuminates a highway sign. You've just

entered Dulce, New Mexico, a forgotten hamlet

which may be home to a subterranean world.

Although underground dwelling seems like a con-

cept from Star Trek, numerous nations are cur-

rently engaged in subsurface construction.

Continuity of Government. It's a United States di-

rective providing underground accommodations

for officials, in event of a catastrophic disaster.

Canada, Great Britain, Japan and Norway are

presently developing subterrestrial access be-

tween their respective countries. The possibility of

subsurface bases on the Moon is being devised by

top theoretical minds, as we speak.

Enter Dulce, New Mexico, where the population

rivals the attendance one would expect at a

Wham! state fair comeback concert. One corpo-


rate motel is all that links this burg to the modern

world. Or is it?

According to tale, buried deep beneath Archuleta

Mesa — a natural geologic formation on the out-

skirts of town — dwells a Top Secret base run by

humans and extraterrestrials. This clandestine fac-

ility is purportedly comprised of at least seven sub-

terrestrial levels. Upwards of 18,000 Grey aliens

are said to be housed on the three lower floors. A

maze of tunnels supposedly connects the com-

pound with similar installations, nationwide.

The most infamous portion of the Dulce base is

Level Six, dubbed Nightmare Hall. A freak show of

genetically engineered mutations, this floor is sup-

posedly home to half-bat, half-humanoid crea-

tures. Living anthropomorphic beings sporting ad-

ditional limbs have also been reported roaming

this notorious level.


During 1978, a group of government employees

uncovered the pending fate of test subjects impris-

oned at the base, and decided to take preventive

action. This response culminated in the Dulce

Wars, an underground battle between extraterres-

trial and human forces, during which 66 U.S. sol-

diers were purportedly killed.

Throughout the late 1980s, New Mexico state

police officer Gabe Valdez reported witnessing

UFOs in the skies above Dulce. Around this time,

Paul Bennewitz, president of Thunder Scientific

Labs — a then-cutting-edge atmospheric testing

company — claimed to be receiving unearthly sig-

nals from the ground below Dulce.

There's also the story of investigator John Ander-

son, who followed a motorcade of mysterious

vehicles to a cordoned off installation on the out-

skirts of town. Upon arriving at the compound,

John claims six UFOs simultaneously floated


above the base, while he hastily fired off a photo-

graph.

Certain he had witnessed something inexplicable,

Anderson stopped at a local store and began relat-

ing his tale to the owner. After receiving a curious

phone call, the shop's proprietor forced John to

vacate the premises.

Confused, Anderson hopped in his car and raced

out of town. In his rear-view mirror, John observed

an anomalous van parking in front of the shop. A

mysterious man stepped from the vehicle and

entered the establishment. Things became even

more bizarre when a car sped behind Anderson’s

automobile and followed him past city limits.

Adding fuel to this conspiratorial fire is the fact that

sonar readings taken beneath Archuleta Mesa

have uncovered unexplainable hollow regions.


Does a secret, subterranean base reside below the

parched soil of Dulce, New Mexico? Are the tales

emanating from this area taller than the Lompoc

Giant? To determine the truth, simply hop in the

old roadster and visit this diminutive borough.

Located in northern New Mexico, Dulce is acces-

sible via Highway 64.

UFO sightings are prevalent in and around city

limits, as are unaccountable cattle mutilations, so

keep your eyes peeled for the strange.

19

An Entombed Extraterrestrial (Texas)

"I happen to have been privileged enough to be in on the fact that we've been visited on this planet, and the UFO phenomenon is real."

— Apollo 14 astronaut, and sixth person to walk

on the Moon, Captain Dr. Edgar Mitchell


Is a creature from another planet buried in an un-

marked grave in rural Texas?

According to the UFO community, it's possible.

A paranormal conundrum shook the tiny town of

Aurora, in the Lone Star State, the night of April 17,

1897. It was during this evening an unidentified

aircraft allegedly crash-landed on private property,

destroying a windmill in its wake, and shattering

the consciousness of rural America.

As stated in the Dallas Morning News, on April

19th of the same year, not only was a flying vessel

recovered from the wreckage, but so too the live

body of a mortally wounded extraterrestrial.

Reportedly, townsfolk attempted to aid the inter-

stellar visitor by sheltering it in a local barn. Unfor-

tunately, the diminutive humanoid perished dur-

ing the evening as a result of physical trauma.

An Entombed Extraterrestrial 21

In 1897, extraterrestrials were far from the tabloid

headlines they are today. This was an era before

functional airplanes. Rather than seek the media,

the citizens of Aurora purportedly buried this de-

ceased space visitor, bequeathing it the same con-

sideration they would their own dead.

According to tale, the Aurora Cemetery is now the

final resting place for what may be physical proof

of extraterrestrial life. A modest gravestone, com-

plete with a carving of a spacecraft, was erected to

mark the remains of this traveler.

The incident was all but forgotten until 1973 when

a group of miscreants stole the headstone denot-

ing the space alien's place of interment. This crim-

inal act made local news before the legend, once

again, disappeared.

Today, some claim the entire tale was a publicity

stunt concocted by S.E. Haydon, the author of the


1897 Dallas Morning News article, as a means of

generating revenue for his dying town. However,

there are still those who believe an alien remains

buried in the Lone Star State.

Ufologists claim the hamlet's lack of intent to capi-

talize on what could be a tourist gold mine, speaks

volumes. No alien-related businesses have sprung

up around town.

Intriguingly, this legendary incident is now docu-

mented on a Texas Historical Commission marker

outside the Aurora Cemetery.

But what of the remains of the downed craft, itself?

Are they locked in some basement somewhere,

still glowing with otherworldly power?

According to tale, portions of the shattered space

vehicle were carted off by citizens shortly after the

crash. One piece of the vessel was said to have

An Entombed Extraterrestrial 23

been buried with the alien, itself, while the remain-

der of twisted metal was thrown down a well.

Brawley Oates, a subsequent owner of the prop-

erty upon which this pit resides, suffered gro-

tesque swelling of his joints, perhaps due to inges-

tion of contaminated water from the spring.

Is an alloy slug recovered from the alleged crash

site proof of extraterrestrial contact? Metallurgists

determined an inch-long chard retrieved from the

area was composed of high grade aluminum that

didn't exist in 1897 and would be difficult to man-

ufacture, even today.

UFO investigators continue their efforts to exhume

whatever is buried in a now-unmarked grave in

the Aurora Cemetery. However, they face legal im-

pediments from local authorities attempting to pro-

tect their tiny town from further vandalism.


Should you care to visit the Aurora Cemetery, and

gaze upon what might be the most important

grave on the planet, the boneyard is located on

Cemetery Road in Aurora, Texas. Aurora is nestled

in the northeast portion of the state. From US

81/287 in Rhome, take Highway 114 and head

west for a mile and a half before turning onto

Cemetery Road and venturing south. The Aurora

Cemetery resides half a mile down, on the left

hand side of the street.

25

The Lompoc Giant (California)

My rusty spade split parched desert soil.

Barely.

The Mojave ground was so depleted of moisture, I

had already broken three shovel blades, and we

weren't even halfway done with this lousy hole.

Still, the powder magazine needed to be dug. At

least that's what El Comandante kept telling us.

I eased back from the pit Juan Miguel and I had

been excavating in the noonday Sun. It had to be

a hundred and ten out. Almost twice that here at

ground level.

We'd been stationed in this godforsaken furnace

since 1831. It was already 1833. Having been the


best of friends since childhood made our situation

almost tolerable. Juan sat back, using my shadow

as the only shade for a mile. I gazed out at the bar-

ren land that was eating us alive.

"There has to be a better way," I mused to myself.

"Quieres un poco?"

I turned. Juan offered up his tiny, dented flask. I

grabbed the decanter, and gulped.

"Agghh!" I gasped. Vile, American whiskey burnt

my bleeding lips, poisoned my swollen throat and

devoured my stomach lining.

Juan laughed. He knew I hated anything gringo.

"Donde esta el tequila?" I turned to the man I trust-

ed most in this sun-bleached oven.

The Lompoc Giant 27

"No hay mas," came my friend's hoarse reply.

"Mezcal?" I quipped.

Juan Miguel just laughed. He sounded like El

Diablo, himself, mocking me for getting into this

mess. I stared into the nothingness that swallowed

us whole. Was this Hell? Would we make it out of

here alive?

"Estoy cansado."

I cursed myself, took a second pull off the white

man's rotgut, and handed the worn canteen back

to Juan Miguel. Tucking my hat tightly over my

eyes, I prepared to break my shovel blade again.

My trowel crashed hard into solid earth.

"Aye, mi Dios!" Juan leapt to his blistered feet, a

spark arcing from my useless digging utensil.


The dirt was hard as stone, but this was the first

time we had seen fire emit from our efforts. Juan

Miguel and I exchanged glances.

I tentatively lifted the shovel in preparation for a re-

match with the impenetrable ground.

"No, no, no!" Juan raised his hand. "Pare ahora!"

He knelt down before me, brushing the soil away

at my feet. Beneath his fingertips, something began

to emerge. Something not part of the ground. A

skull. A human skull.

To anyone else, in any other situation, such a find

may have produced a number of heightened re-

sponses. Our battalion had run across so many

human skeletons out here, though, if an army of

the dead were to rise up one night, it would out-

number us three-to-one.

The Lompoc Giant 29

Juan Miguel's sweeping hand made another pass

over the dislodged soil, revealing an eye socket

the size of a cannonball.

"Madre de Dios!" my friend retreated.

Before the day was through, our regiment would

unearth a human cranium larger than any we'd

seen before, and a 12 foot tall skeleton attached to

it. If that weren't enough, the ancient skull we dis-

covered housed double rows of teeth.

The aforementioned may sound like a work of

fiction, but a similar account allegedly occurred in

1833, when Mexican soldiers excavated a colos-

sal human skeleton, in what is now Lompoc,

California. Although the find was astonishing, the

impromptu discovery was reburied by local Native

Americans, who deemed it a harbinger of evil. To

the best of anyone's knowledge, the enormous


remains still reside somewhere beneath Southern

California soil.

Such a historical loss may seem tragic. However,

the alleged incident in Lompoc was anything but

isolated. During an era in which prospectors tore

holes in the Earth, seeking copper, gold and silver,

abnormally large, human skeletons were often dis-

covered beneath the continental U.S. In particular,

Lovelock, Nevada, and central Minnesota proved

to be treasure troves of enormous hominid bones.

Familiar with a giant species of humans that once

walked the planet, Native Americans were any-

thing but surprised by these finds. In fact, histories

of indigenous inhabitants speak of battles waged

against a gargantuan human race.

What is unfortunate is the shoddy record keeping

during the 19th century, as well as that era's ar-

chaic means of forensic preservation. Both con-

The Lompoc Giant 31

tributed to the loss of almost all gigantic human

remains discovered in the 1800s.

Although physical proof of colossal hominids may

be missing, written evidence of such a species

could have been staring us in the face for over

2,000 years. Thumb through the Old Testament's

Book of Genesis to Chapter 6, Verse 4, and you'll

find a simple sentence stating, "there were giants

in the earth in those days."

Lompoc is located in Santa Barbara County, north

of Oxnard and Ventura.

Accessed via Highway 1, none of the community's

40,000 residents currently stand 12 feet in height.

33

A Gravity-Defying Staircase? (New Mexico)

Rain deluged the chalky desert street. Below the

soil, dense caliche kept the water from dissipating.

Arc lightning fanned out across a sky exhibiting

more colors than an Italian Renaissance painting.

In the distance, the thunder of wild horses could

be heard. Somewhere, a coyote ensnared a less

agile creature.

Wrapped in gossamer linens, a lone figure stole

toward a modest church in the center of town.

Reaching the cathedral, the mysterious stranger

raised a gnarled fist the size of a mountain lion

skull, and pounded on the ample wooden door

before him.

No answer. Given the extreme conditions, the

drifter was obviously patient, and didn't make a

second attempt for another minute.


Light emitted from the furthest window of the

sanctuary, flickering as it carved a path to the

building’s front entrance. Bulky, metal locks re-

leased. On crackling hinges, the wooden door

opened, exposing the softened face of a nun.

"May I help you?"

The stranger stepped into the moonlight, illum-

inating features constructed of sun-dried leather.

"I've come for the staircase."

Perplexed, the woman responded, “I— I'm sorry. I

don't understand. The staircase?"

"Yes."

The nun's mind raced. "Here?" The woman mo-

tioned to the chapel around her.

"Yes."

A Gravity-Defying Staircase? 35

Nonplussed, the sister's brow furrowed. "Well, I'm

sorry. You must be misinformed. We have no

staircase at Loretto Chapel."

"No?"

The woman shook her head.

"Have you any warm water?"

Confused, the nun assumed the stranger was seek-

ing a bath and perhaps shelter for the evening.

"Why, yes."

From a rough-hewn satchel, the withered traveler

produced a carpenter's square, hammer and saw.

"Then in three months, you shall have a staircase."

Santa Fe, New Mexico, a scenic art community

rich in history, but also a paranormal hotspot.


The city's enigmatic past includes La Llarona, or

the Legend of the Weeping Woman, in which a

female entity searches the rivers of the southwest

for her lost children, whom she drowned.

The Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi, an exquisite

cathedral dedicated to a man claimed to have

been the first stigmatic in recorded history.

La Plazuela restaurant, home to the spirit of a

salesman who reportedly leapt to his death down

a well once located in the center of the venue.

Without question, Santa Fe is a paranormal inves-

tigator’s paradise. Consider, for instance, Loretto

Chapel, an exquisite church of antiquity nestled in

the heart of the capital city. Inside Loretto exists a

staircase which, according to certain sources, de-

fies gravity. So popular have the stairs of Loretto

become, they’ve been featured on the television


shows National Geographic, Ripley's Believe It or

Not and Unsolved Mysteries.

Termed the Miraculous Staircase, this set of steps

winds around itself twice in consecutive 360-

degree turns. Since the stairwell at Loretto posses-

ses no center support, many claim the swirling

steps oppose the known laws of gravity. Just as

compelling as the stairway, though, is the legend

behind the architectural marvel's construction.

The chapel at Loretto was near completion around

1878, but somehow a staircase to the second

story choir loft hadn't been factored into the plans.

A stairwell of then-standard size would have pro-

ven far too large for the little church. Requiring a

method to reach the upper level of the sanctuary,

the sisters of Loretto prayed to St. Joseph, the pa-

tron saint of carpenters, over a period of nine

straight days.


Following the ministry's novena, a gray-bearded

stranger appeared at the door of the cathedral,

informing the nuns he would build the staircase,

but needed privacy in which to complete the task.

Locking himself in the chapel for three months,

using only a carpenter's square, hammer, saw and

warm water, the visitor manufactured a stairwell

made of wood non-native to New Mexico.

From whence the lumber was procured remains

another mystery, as the sisters of Loretto never wit-

nessed the architect leave the church during con-

struction of the stairs. In fact, the nuns hadn't ob-

served a delivery of any sort to their beloved basil-

ica, throughout the interim.

The fact that no nails are employed in the creation

of the staircase seems incomprehensible, when

considering up to 20 adults have stood simultane-

ously upon this curiosity.


The identity of the carpenter in question remains a

mystery, as well. Upon completion of his task, he

departed, never seeking compensation, and never

being heard from again.

The stairway at Loretto Chapel stands 20 feet high,

comprising 33 individual steps, the same number

of years Jesus Christ purportedly walked the Earth.

Open to the public seven days a week, admission

to view the enigmatic staircase is nominal.

41

The Legend of Ephraim Gray (Massachusetts)

Lightning tore the blackened sky like a scalpel

through buttery flesh.

Gnarled fingers of cold clawed at anything ex-

posed, destroying skin.

A full Moon illuminated empty streets.

Amidst this brutal New England winter, candlelight

provided a view into a mysterious residence at the

center of town. The silhouette of a male figure

could be seen pacing before an attic window. If

one gazed into these secret proceedings using a

spyglass, they might catch a glimpse of an aging

man mixing concoctions amidst a laboratory.

Cauldrons bubbled. Steam emitted from simmer-

ing, makeshift beakers. By contemporary stan-


dards, the scene would have appeared archaic, a

mad scientist attempting to reanimate the dead.

A pot was turned three-quarters to the left. A flame

was stoked. Wrinkled hands dispensed a carefully

calibrated amount of liquid into a goblet. As the

heavens crashed around him, the man brought

the chalice to his lips. Thunder shook the walls, as

he drank. Swallowing the acidic fluid, he won-

dered, would he soon be able to live forever?

Area 51; the Bermuda Triangle; Roswell, New

Mexico. Malden, Massachusetts, doesn't generally

top anybody's list of paranormal hotspots. Besides

an average number of purported hauntings, what

supernatural claim could this enchanting East

Coast community possess? Only the possible

birthplace of the secret to immortality.

His name was Ephraim Gray, and like most small

town recluses during the mid-19th century, his co-

The Legend of Ephraim Gray 43

vert, nocturnal schedule kept neighbors in a state

of wonder.

And then there was that hideous odor emanating

from his home. What was it? Was Ephraim con-

juring up the undead? Was Mr. Gray a Victorian

era Dr. Frankenstein?

For years, only Ephraim and his manservant were

privy to the unusual events taking place within the

Gray household.

And then, one day in 1850, Mr. Gray's live-in

attendant reported that Ephraim had died of natu-

ral causes, whilst the town of Malden slept the

previous evening.

The assistant claimed Mr. Gray had been a self-

trained chemist, spending the greater portion of

his life developing an elixir that would guarantee

him immortality. According to the servant, even


though Ephraim had failed to perfect his solution,

he had ingested enough of whatever potion he did

create to make certain his corpse would withstand

the process of decay.

Heir to his master's estate, the attendant was

ensured Ephraim's legacy only upon transporta-

tion of Mr. Gray's corpse directly to the Malden

Cemetery, without stops for autopsy or embalm-

ing. Living up to his word, the assistant carried out

his employer's single request.

Of the mysterious elixir of immortality, the formula

was never found.

Enter a handful of Harvard students some two

decades later; a group curious about Ephraim's

grand quest. The assemblage trekked to Mr. Gray's

crypt, in hopes of uncovering whether or not his

corpse had actually staved off the ravages of

decay. Prying open the coffin, there's no way the


students could have prepared themselves for what

they found; a perfectly preserved Ephraim Gray,

lacking the slightest hint of decomposition.

Their questioning appetites satiated, the students

sealed the casket, once again entombing Mr. Gray

below ground. They then made a solemn oath to

keep their midnight grave tampering to them-

selves, lest they be expelled from medical school.

As the 20th century roared in, propelled by auto-

mobiles, the need to relocate the Malden Ceme-

tery arose, making way for a road directly through

the burial grounds. The exhumation of caskets

went off without a hitch, until boneyard employ-

ees hoisted one Ephraim Gray's coffin from the

ground, and found it to be abnormally light. Upon

opening the funerary box, the grave diggers dis-

covered the sarcophagus empty.

The disappearance of Mr. Gray's cadaver caused


word of the medical students' outing to surface.

The pupils, now all middle-aged, swore they had

resealed Ephraim's coffin with extreme care, leav-

ing his corpse where they found it.

To this day, the whereabouts of Ephraim Gray's

body remain a mystery. How the cadaver van-

ished is also a conundrum. Is it possible Mr. Gray

unraveled the secret to immortality? Does he con-

tinue to walk the Earth, destined to live forever,

while the rest of us age and eventually die?

Have you ever met someone too knowledgeable

about a century past, as though they could have

only obtained such wisdom through first-hand ex-

perience? Look closely. Does that person seem to

defy the aging process? If so, take heed. You may

be in the presence of Ephraim Gray.

Located in Middlesex County, Malden, Massa-

chusetts resides in the northeastern portion of the


Bay State. From Boston, travel north along Route

93. Take Exit 32, and follow Route 60 east until

you reach your destination.

49

The Kingman UFO Crash (Arizona)

"I have seen three objects in the last seven years which defied any explanation of known phenomenon, such as Venus, atmospheric optics, meteors or planes. I am a professional, highly skilled astronomer...I think that several reputable scientists are being unscientific in refusing to entertain the possibility of extraterrestrial origin and nature."

— astronomer who discovered the now-dwarf

planet Pluto, Dr. Clyde W. Tombaugh


"Who the hell are these people?" Arthur won-

dered, glancing at the passengers around the bus.

The soldier at the front of the vehicle made it clear

the engineer wasn't to speak to anyone.

Arthur peeled at the strips of duct tape covering

the window adjacent his seat. This stuff was thick.

At least four layers. The glass panes encircling the

vehicle were encased in it.

He wasn't military. Why the hell was he here?

Sure, the company he worked for was contracted

out by Uncle Sam, but the bus had been on the

road now for four hours.

The vehicle slowed to a halt. Tension heightened

amongst his fellow passengers.

The door to the bus opened, and the serviceman

stationed at the front saluted whomever stood just

The Kingman UFO Crash 51

outside. A brief conversation ensued before G.I.

Joe turned to the ensemble.

"Might I remind you," the officer bellowed, "you're

all under contract of the United States government.

What you see and experience from this point for-

ward is held in the strictest of confidence. You will

speak of this incident to no one!"

With the decree, Arthur and his fellow passengers

were led into the pre-dawn desert. In the sand be-

fore them, illuminated by stationary searchlights,

rested a 30 foot wide, circular craft. The collective

silence spoke volumes.

"Did the military crash one of its experimental ve-

hicles?!” Arthur's mind raced.

The vessel had to have wrecked. A fissure defaced

the otherwise flawless metal of it's fuselage.


"Okay, so this thing ditched," Arthur deduced. "But

from where?"

The only tire tracks around the vehicle belonged

to the military Jeeps now surrounding the craft.

Whatever this was hadn't been driven to its cur-

rent location.

"And what's with all this secrecy?" Arthur pon-

dered. "A covert, military operation undertaken in

the dead of night? Why not just wait until day-

break to clean this up?

This was definitely something big. By all indica-

tions, huge. Arthur harkened back to dime store

pulp penned about men from Mars. "Hadn't some

pilot seen nine of these things in Washington state

a few years ago?" He seemed to recall an alleged

crash somewhere in New Mexico, as well. "When

was that? '47? '48?"


Stancil didn't remember. But the incident had

been declared a mistake, right? Damn, he could

use a pre-breakfast beverage.

A carved in stone officer from Hell emerged from

the darkness, belching chronic halitosis into Ar-

thur’s face.

"Stancil!" the prototype for the perfect soldier bel-

lowed forth.

Shocked, Arthur recoiled. “Y— yes?”

"Arthur G.?" the behemoth sensed fear, and leapt

all over it.

"Yes."

"Engineer?"

“Y— yes, sir."


"Follow me."

Arthur got the feeling this Neanderthal didn't give

a damn who he worked for: Communists, Nazis,

U.S. Marine Corps, it was all the same. Just another

excuse to exert control.

The officer glared back at the engineer, as though

he could read minds.

Stancil lowered his gaze. Fifteen feet from the

wreckage, the military official stopped. Arthur

followed suit.

The combative drone turned to the mechanical

engineer. "You have one objective, Mr. Stancil.

Determine the velocity at which it crashed to Earth.

The more quickly you accomplish your task, the

more quickly we'll have you home."

Arthur hesitated, glancing at the incredible craft.


"'Crashed to Earth?'" he thought. "So, this is some

sort of...whatever.

“Wh— what is it?" Stancil queried.

Unsnapping the holster on his sidearm, the officer

towered over Arthur. "Ask that question again, and

it'll be your last."

The engineer stood his ground, although his trem-

bling hands were a giveaway he was a house of

cards in a windstorm. "This is beyond huge," de-

termined Stancil. "Either this is Top Secret Ruskie,

or—“ The engineer shuddered at the obvious

conclusion.

"I'll...I'll need a slide rule, the longest measuring

tape you've got, and a pad. Oh, and a pencil, too."

The officer pointed toward an illuminated tent.

"You'll find everything in there. Ask for Sergeant


Malloy.” With that, "Major Pain" disappeared into

the night.

Arthur would see the supersoldier twice again,

both times in fitful nightmares months later.

The calculations went pretty smoothly. Angle of

trajectory; distance the craft was embedded into

the soil. None of it was precise, but let's face it,

these jarheads wouldn't know the difference.

While determining his solution, Arthur queried the

handful of civilians around him. He learned of a

diminutive cockpit located somewhere within the

vehicle. He pondered looking inside, but the men-

tal image of the mammoth, armed officer kept him

from doing so.

An hour later, Stancil submitted his conclusion,

and was escorted back to the bus. Along the way,

he passed a tiny tent wreaking of astringent. The


engineer managed a quick look inside. What he

saw would forever change his life.

A body. Human, yet not human. An anthropomor-

phic being, perhaps four feet in height. Whatever it

was, it appeared dead. Before attempting a closer

look, visions of square-jawed Marines pistol whip-

ping him filled his overactive brain. Stepping

quickly from the tent, Arthur continued his walk

back to the bus.

Copies of a pledge of secrecy were signed, which

forbade Stancil and the other civilians from ever

speaking of the incident.

The ride back to Phoenix Sky Harbor concluded

around 9 AM. Unless the driver was traveling in

circles, the vehicle would have headed northwest

during its initial excursion. Well under four hours

south would place the bus somewhere in Mexico.

Due north would take it beyond Flagstaff and into


a much more wooded area. Only one solution

remained. Highway 93, up through Wickenburg.

Kingman, a four hour drive northwest of Phoenix,

was still desert by any account.

Whether or not the preceding story is true remains

a mystery. Arthur G. Stancil; a.k.a. Fritz Werner, al-

legedly a mechanical engineer graduating from

Ohio University, came forth with this incredible

tale as early as 1964. The story gained recognition

in 1973 when renowned UFO investigator

Raymond Fowler published his own research on

the subject. Fowler purports to having conducted

extensive background investigation on the indivi-

dual known as Arthur G. Stancil, and determined

him to be of credible nature. Fowler also claims

Stancil displayed extensive knowledge regarding

the field of mechanical engineering.

Evidence corroborating the fantastical story would

later emerge from Wright-Patterson Air Force Base


in Ohio. Former staff stationed at the military in-

stallation attested to the arrival of "three small bod-

ies packed in dry ice," shipped from Arizona dur-

ing the time frame of the reported crash. Accord-

ing to personnel, the diminutive cadavers sported

oversized craniums and brown skin.

A lack of physical evidence validating Stancil's as-

sertions remains. Combine this with the fact mili-

tary personnel giving testimony are either unable

or unwilling to divulge their names, and you've

got an account that may or may not be true.

Since portions of Arthur's claims have subse-

quently changed, any researcher seeking veracity

would be well advised to approach this case with

a dubious mindset.

Did a UFO of extraterrestrial origin really crash in

Kingman, Arizona, on May 20, 1953? Take Inter-

state 40 west from Flagstaff and find out for your-


self. Kingman can also be reached from Phoenix

by traveling northwest on Highway 60 and con-

tinuing through Wickenburg along the 93. Upon

reaching Interstate 40, head west for 20 miles, and

you'll arrive at your destination.

Kingman is located 25 miles east of Bullhead City,

Arizona, and Laughlin, Nevada, both of which

hug state line. Traversing Route 66 on your way to

Vegas, you'll find yourself passing through this

historic destination. Stop and speak to the locals.

Tour the city. Perhaps you'll be able to solve a

modern mystery.

61

An Invisible Portal in the Desert (New Mexico)

A chunk of chupacabra jerky posing as an old

man stopped swigging his mezcal and lemonade

long enough to watch the pterosaur dive-bomb

his front lawn. "Second time, today," the faded fos-

sil mused to himself.

Another gulp soothed the aged specimen's splint-

ered throat. The man reclined in a lawn chair atop

his dying front porch. "This one's smaller than the

last. Can't be no bigger than a Buick. Probably just

a pup," he silently concluded.

Chewing rusty ice made from rustier pipes, the

venerable sage deduced, "Damned door let two

in, today."

A legally blind eye was diverted to a sandstorm

licking the furthest edges of town. In the opposite

direction, the pterosaur simply vanished into the


nothingness from whence it came. The old man

took no notice. A moment later, he vanished, too.

Just another afternoon in Lordsburg, New Mexico.

A dot the size of a pulp novel period defines this

hamlet on the map. Three thousand grizzled, live

bodies constitute the population, here. Perhaps

more of the dead do, as well. Slow suicide is

Lordsburg's modus operandi, as an underground

methamphetamine enterprise keeps this outpost

wavering on life support.

Sandstorms dominate the meteorological forecast,

in these parts. Defunct storefronts dot the land-

scape like headstones in a busy graveyard. Yarns

of Thunderbirds the size of small planes are spun

around a ubiquitous loom of urban legends.

Purportedly, ghosts, mysterious spook lights and

UFOs are nothing new to area inhabitants.

An Invisible Portal in the Desert 63

Amateur paranormal investigator, and Lordsburg

resident, Ramon Ortiz has toiled the past 15 years

photographing and videotaping unexplained phe-

nomena above this tiny borough. Much of Ortiz's

work showcases what appears to be technology

beyond human capabilities. Enigmatic craft report-

edly "hover, divide, flash and even change shape

in mid-air" over this region.

So, what's causing the mass irregularity inherent to

this neglected rest stop on the way to Arizona?

According to locals, the source of the strangeness

is a door. Somewhere on the outskirts of town, a

portal between dimensions purportedly exists. As

asserted by Ortiz, the opening awaits near mile

marker 17 along Highway 90. It's unclear as to

whether this ingress is tangible, but allegedly a

carved rock chair and table rest adjacent it. An

ancient tree stump supposedly protrudes from the

ground in front of the door. Trapped within re-


sides a human leg bone, evidence of some unfor-

tunate individual emerging from the gateway and

into the molecular structure of a dead tree.

As if gigantic birds, spook lights and UFOs weren't

enough, translucent, humanoid behemoths have

reportedly emanated from the Lordsburg Door, as

well. Ostensibly, even the spirit of Geronimo,

long-dead Apache leader, has been observed

walking the town.

Area ranchers claim many of their "hybrid, high-

grade cattle" have mysteriously vanished, only to

"be replaced by low-grade, Mexican" cows from

the other side of the portal.

Ortiz maintains only individuals welcomed by the

egress are capable of viewing it. According to

legend, the Lordsburg Door is but one of seven

such vortices within the Bootheel region of south-

ern New Mexico. Whether or not these tales are

An Invisible Portal in the Desert 65

true is up for debate. Currently, no research has

been conducted of the area by established para-

normal investigative teams.

Consider changing all that by piloting your ship of

steel over the waves of asphalt crisscrossing

Interstate 10. West of I-25, between Shakespeare

ghost town and Stein's ghost town, about 25 miles

east of Arizona, you may end up driving through a

portal into another dimension.

67

The Meanest Ghost Ever? (South Carolina)

It's an honor normally reserved for the likes of the

Bell Witch of Adams, Tennessee, or the entity that

plagued Carla Moran in Culver City, California,

during the 1970s. In regard to the majority of

hauntings, most ghosts seem harmless. Can the

same be said for the spirit of Lavinia Fisher?

The Six Mile Wayfarer House was a quaint South

Carolina inn during the 19th century. Owned and

operated by Lavinia Fisher, and husband John, the

tavern was situated near Charleston, along the

route to a then-expanding United States. Those

heading west inevitably passed the Fishers' place

of respite during their travels.

Although business was good, both Lavinia and

John thirsted for more. As such, from time to time,

the Fishers would simply kill the occasional

lodger, and purloin the poor soul's personal ef-


fects. Travelers new to the area made the best

prey, since local law enforcement would have no

record of them even existing.

A poison-laced meal would send the ailing cus-

tomer seeking solace in his room. During the

night, whilst the languishing lodger slept, John

Fisher would steal into the guest's quarters and

smother the visitor. Gathering any valuables the

boarder had, Fisher would then burn traceable

clothing, and dispose of the corpse in a pre-dug

lime pit beneath the tavern.

Although the horrific scam worked well upon

those unfamiliar with the area, it was only a matter

of time before the Fishers accidentally attempted

their scheme on a traveler more acquainted with

the region.

February 12, 1819, would prove to be such a

date. His name was John Peeples, and he wan-

The Meanest Ghost Ever? 69

dered into the Six Mile Wayfarer House in need of

an evening's shelter. While the experienced

tracker secured his team of pack mules outside,

Lavinia prepared dinner for her weary guest.

Ducking back into the warmth of the tavern,

Peeples thanked the woman for her hospitality,

but in-formed her he was laden with provisions,

and simply wished to retire for the night. When

Lavinia insisted, attempting to coerce the man with

a free meal, John became suspicious, knowing full

well anything offered as a gift always came with a

price. Once again, Peeples declined, but Lavinia's

per-sistence ultimately won out, as there seemed

no way for John to circumvent the situation.

Following dinner, feeling ill, John retired to his

room. Woozy, but retaining his wits, the lodger

placed blankets beneath his comforter, giving the

illusion he was sleeping in bed, while he, himself,

curled up in a darkened corner.


Sometime during the wee hours of the evening,

the door to the traveler's room opened. John

Fisher entered. From the darkness of the hallway,

Lavinia hissed the command, "Do it!"

Complying, the innkeeper leapt atop the bed,

attempting to smother his latest victim, but was

shocked to find the bunk empty. Without hesita-

tion, Peeples made for the door, traversed the hall-

way and scrambled from the lodge.

Before the Fishers could react, a nauseous John

Peeples had hopped upon his horse, and ridden

in search of local law enforcement.

The following day, Lavinia, her husband John and

a handful of others who had taken part in the

murders, were found hiding in a refuge adjacent a

nearby river. Initially, only John Peeples indict-

ment was issued, but after the Six Mile Wayfarer

House was burnt to the ground, the discovery of


the lime pits beneath the property was made. In

the end, upwards of 26 partially liquefied corpses

were recovered. Almost immediately, Lavinia and

her husband were sentenced to hang.

On February 18, 1820, the Fishers respective exe-

cutions were set to be carried out in public, as was

customary of the day. The event took on a circus-

like atmosphere, when the streets filled with curi-

ous onlookers.

Climbing the gallows, John pleaded for his life,

claiming not only had he discovered religion dur-

ing incarceration, but that his evil deeds were

solely the brainchild of his wicked wife. The

crowd responded with collective laughter at the

condemned man's cries. Moments later, John's

lifeless corpse was twitching at the end of a rope.

Lavinia, on the other hand, had no intentions of

departing this mortal world a coward. Instead, she


promptly mounted the scaffold, and headed di-

rectly toward the noose. Addressing the throng of

onlookers, the woman shouted, "If any of you's

got a message for the Devil, better give it to me

quick, 'cause I'm about to meet him!" As the exe-

cutioners finished their preparations, Lavinia

vaulted off the platform and hanged herself, before

her captors could experience the pleasure. Fish-

er’s leap landed her squarely amidst the crowd,

many of whom would later claim the woman died

with a sinister smile on her face.

There are those who insist Lavinia's evil presence

lingers, to this day, within the jail cell where she

was incarcerated. In 1886, a massive earthquake

rocked the southeast coast, and the walls of this

foreboding chamber at the Charleston Jail cracked

open. Since that time, Lavinia's malevolent specter

has also been spotted wandering the nearby Uni-

tarian church cemetery mere blocks away. It was

in this forgotten boneyard the evil woman's body


had been laid to rest, when all other burial houses

refused to inter her. The cemetery, itself, is now in-

undated with weeds. Locals claim folks are just too

scared of the place to maintain its upkeep.

Mrs. Fisher's specter is often referred to as Charles-

ton’s most active spirit. That's quite a claim, con-

sidering South Carolina is fraught with residents of

the netherworld, from the Grey Man, to the snarl-

ing fangs of the Ghost Hound of Goshen.

Resultant of her insidious escapades, Lavinia is of-

ten categorized as this country's first female serial

killer. If you wish to dispute that claim, you can

pay her a visit at the former site of the Old Charles-

ton Jail in Charleston, South Carolina. 21 Maga-

zine Street is currently home to The American

College of the Building Arts, but tours are offered,

should you make an appointment. Give 'em a call

at 843.577.5245.


Paranormal excursions throughout Charleston are

also provided, and detailed descriptions of each

— some meandering right past Lavinia Fisher's old

jail cell — can be found online. A great place to

start your search for perhaps the meanest ghost

ever, is with the Charleston haunted jail tour at:

www.zerve.com/bulldog/chjt.

75

Mobsters, Monsters and a Bottomless Pit (Nevada)

Whatever gripped the fisherman's line below the

surface wasn't giving up. An abused GPC dangling

from his lips, the man wondered how big this bas-

tard could be. He was only using 10 pound test.

Through the haze of a bourbon breakfast, rusty re-

call dusted off a childhood memory. Sure, every-

body had heard of Nessie the Loch Ness Monster,

but how many were aware of Tessie, a similar

creature of Lake Tahoe renown? The man was. In

fact, he had seen the beast back in '56.

So, too, had numerous others throughout the

years. Hell, one account made headlines in the

San Francisco Chronicle in '84. Two female

residents of Tahoe City had been hiking above the

west banks of the lake, when they caught site of

something large on the surface of the water. From


what the man remembered, both women esti-

mated the leviathan at close to 20 feet in length.

And what about the pair of Reno police officers a

few years prior that? All it took was a couple oat

sodas, and these two began spewin' details of an

"unusually large" creature they encountered back

in '82. June, from what the man could recollect.

That was just it. Didn't most of the sightings occur

in the summer months? June, in particular?

"Well, this ain't June," the AARP member thought

to himself. Gnawing arthritis in his hands would

attest to that.

The man gave one last yank on his rusty fishing

pole. The line slackened. He reeled faster, as if 10

pound test could ensnare a lake monster. And

then he saw it. Something on his hook 15 feet

away. Not a Kraken, but not a fish, either. The

Mobsters, Monsters and a Bottomless Pit 77

sportsman could tell by the object's color. Flesh.

As he continued to reel, his catch came into view.

The haul was skin-colored, all right. And for good

reason.

The wedding ring at the base of the bloated digit

still gleamed as if new. The three-fingered hand it

was attached to might have come from a freshly-

drowned victim, had it not been swollen to gro-

tesque proportions.

Recalling another area legend, the fisherman

crawled back from the severed body part.

Lake Tahoe was known amongst locals as the

Graveyard. Depths upwards of 900 feet off the

south shore became the perfect place for Mafia

hitmen to dispose of bodies between the 1920s

and 1950s. The water's icy temperatures also

created an ideal environment for preserving flesh.

As a result, it was theorized hundreds of human


corpses may lie in wait, eerily staring into the dark-

ness at the bottom of the giant hole.

In fact, the man remembered the late undersea

adventurer Jacques Cousteau exploring the lake in

one of his submersibles during the '70s. The fish-

erman still recalled the oceanographer’s reaction,

verbatim, upon returning top-side from his jour-

ney. "The world isn't ready for what is down

there," Cousteau would proclaim.

Giving him chills then, the statement held even

deeper meaning as the man knelt before the

amputated hand. What did Cousteau witness in

the blackness of Lake Tahoe that kept him from

releasing a single photo from his dive?

"Did that Frenchman see a creature down there?"

the fisherman pondered. Or was there really a ne-

cropolis of dead bodies anchored to the bottom of

the lake, Swiss-cheesed with bullet holes?


Such thoughts were too much for the man. After

all, he had only come down to the water's edge to

catch a little breakfast. With trembling fingers, he

fired up another coffin nail, kicked the severed

hand back in the water and crept into the woods.

McDonald's would be openin' soon, and he

wouldn't have to clean and gut an Egg McMuffin.

The legend of Tessie the Lake Monster harkens

back to an era when Washoe Indians related tales

of a "big fish" in the Northern Hemisphere's sec-

ond deepest inland body of water.

By the 1800s, the creature had become malevo-

lent in the eyes of those spinning yarns, allegedly

attacking ships like the Governor Stanford, that lost

a bowstrip to the ravenous monster back in 1883.

Tessie's notoriety reached its height in the 1930s,

when hunting parties were formed with the sole

intent of catching the ultimate aquatic trophy.


Contemporary witnesses of the beast include cred-

ible observers, such as police officer Chris Beebe,

who claimed to encounter a creature pacing a ves-

sel he was waterskiing behind. Beebe purports, "I

knew that whatever it was, it was alive, and I knew

it was bigger than my boat. My immediate reaction

was that I would stop moving so that I didn't lose

either of my feet." The lawman insists whatever

followed him was black, no more than six feet

away and similar in appearance to a Volkswagen

Beetle. Luckily, the creature would vanish amongst

the depths, allowing the officer to emerge un-

harmed.

Theories ranging from myth to prehistoric species

have been suggested in explanation of Tessie.

Giant sturgeon, which can live in excess of 100

years — continually growing their entire lives —

have also been proposed. After all, a 22 foot long,

2,000 pound variety of this fish was found in Sac-

ramento River, at one point.


Whatever Tessie may be, there's no denying Lake

Tahoe is steeped in mystery. From Mafia grave-

yards and unplumbed depths, to sea creatures that

defy logic, this body of water continues to intrigue.

83

The Mysterious Thunderbird Photograph (Arizona)

Upon searching the Internet, you're bound to find

some version of it. In fact, numerous people are

certain they've uncovered it. They just can't recall

where they saw it.

So, what the hell is "it?"

A photograph that, if authentic, would change hu-

mankind’s perspective on prehistory. A photo-

graph of a creature thought to have been extinct

65 million years. A photograph of a Thunderbird;

a monstrous, flying beast longer than two Grey-

hound buses placed end-to-end.

Our tale begins in April, 1890, somewhere near

the outskirts of Tombstone, Arizona. Through a

mire of heat, a pair of cowpunchers spot a massive

creature, complete with serpentine body and

clawed talons, soaring high above the desert floor.


Undaunted by the size of the anomaly, the men

close the distance between the being and them-

selves. When their horses begin to protest, the

cowhands dismount, and track the bird on foot.

As the aberration lands, the men squeeze off a few

well-placed rounds from their rickety rifles, and

the beast is felled, collapsing in a languid heap.

Though this legend is believed by many to be

nothing more than an eerie campfire anecdote,

there are those who swear the aforementioned tale

is true.

It's been claimed the two cowpokes who shot the

bird carved off a hunk of the creature's enormous

wing, and dragged it to Tombstone. To date, no

one has produced this palpable proof, but numer-

ous individuals profess to having seen a photo-

graph of the giant avian in question.

The Mysterious Thunderbird Photograph 85

Cryptozoologists point to a 1960s Saga magazine

article, which reported a daguerrotype of the bird

had been published in an 1886 installment of the

Tombstone Epitaph. The Epitaph, a legitimate

newspaper, declared the creature was killed by a

pair of prospectors, and hauled into the southeast-

ern Arizona town on the back of a wagon.

Allegedly, the dead beast was pegged to a wall,

while six men stood side-by-side, arms out-

stretched in front of the enigma, whose wingspan

measured 36 feet.

A September, 1963 feature in Fate magazine as-

serted the photo in question had been published

at an obscure date, sometime prior. Fate, itself,

conducted a thorough investigation of its own

archives, believing they may have unknowingly

possessed a copy of the elusive picture. Unfortun-

ately, the periodical's rummaging produced no

tangible evidence.


During the hysteria to find the slippery photo-

graph, the original 1886 Epitaph article was recov-

ered. Although the editorial described the bird and

the circumstances surrounding its death, this first-

hand account made no mention of any picture of

the creature.

Such confusion leads one to ponder how so many

cryptozoologists — including John Keel, author of

The Mothman Prophecies — could insist on hav-

ing seen the photo, at some point in time.

Even after copious research, what's known as the

Thunderbird Photograph has yet to be recovered.

There are at least a couple versions of the mythical

picture online. Whether or not any of these is au-

thentic remains to be seen.

Whatever the truth may be, while sauntering down

Allen Street in Tombstone, or traveling that lonely

The Mysterious Thunderbird Photograph 87

stretch of Interstate 10 on your way to the O.K.

Corral, glance up occasionally at the sky. You may

catch a glimpse of more than just a DC-10 on its

way to Vegas.

89

High Strangeness at the Skinwalker Ranch (Utah)

Two hundred pounds! That's how much the wolf

approaching Tom Gorman must have weighed!

"They just don't get this big,” Tom’s mind raced.

And yet, before the Gorman family stood a beast

on all fours that was chest-high to a six foot tall

man. Even more bizarre? The wolf — if that's what

it was — seemed completely tame.

Ed, Tom's father, extended a quivering hand, pet-

ting the rain-slicked fur of the monstrous beast.

Abruptly, the massive creature raced for a nearby

corral, engulfing the head of one of Tom's prized

Angus calves. With powerful force, the enormous

predator worked its squealing captive partially

through the bars of the enclosure.

Tom bolted forward, kicking the monster, while Ed

attacked the abomination with a Louisville Slugger.


Tad, Tom’s son, tossed a Magnum pistol to his

father. Without hesitation, the rancher fired three

slugs into the blood-thirsty animal. The wolf

seemed unfazed, yet relinquished its death grip on

the calf.

Tom squeezed the trigger a fourth time, placing a

round in the monstrosity's heart. The first shot

should have killed the creature, much less the fol-

lowing three bullets. Yet, the anomaly sat peace-

fully, gazing back at the herdsman.

Tad handed Tom his .30-06, a rifle that can slay

elk. The cattleman pumped another two rounds

into the wolf. A hunk of shoulder flesh and fur

ripped free from the animal. The beast merely

turned and trotted away.

Tom and Tad raced after the anomaly, which ac-

celerated quickly, escaping behind a grove of

Russian Olive trees. The father-son pair were able

High Strangeness at the Skinwalker Ranch 91

to follow the beast's trail to a clearing 25 yards

from a nearby river. It was there the animal's tracks

simply vanished, as did the wolf, itself.

Although this may seem a work of fantasy, the

above incident was one of several experienced on

the Skinwalker Ranch, an isolated homestead in

northeastern Utah.

For the Gorman family, this wasn't the last en-

counter with the wolves, either. Ellen Gorman,

Tom's wife, would be visited by another member

of the over-sized pack, this one a good head taller

than her Chevy Chevette. In fact, the beast was so

large it was forced to lean down in order to peer

through the driver's side window as Ellen slowly

entered the outskirts of her ranch property.

But the wolves were only the beginning. Over a

period of 18 months, the Gormans witnessed a

deluge of the paranormal, including cattle mutila-


tions, dimensional doorways, ethereal beast en-

counters, poltergeist activity, spook lights and

UFO sightings.

It was 1994, and Tom Gorman had just purchased

480 acres of homestead in the Beehive State,

hopeful the transition from small town New Mex-

ico would be a positive one for him and his clan.

A more wholesome existence, herding prized cat-

tle in God's country, should be just what the Gor-

mans needed. Little did Tom know he was relo-

cating his family to perhaps the most renowned

anomalous hotspot on the planet. It would soon

be theorized this region of Utah may be a rift be-

tween dimensions, through which all sorts of enig-

mas found foothold. To the Gormans, however,

the ranch became a nightmare. By 1996, the fam-

ily was ready to sell the place for a song, as had

the owners before them.

Navajo hierarchy includes an individual known as


the medicine man, highly renowned for his know-

ledge of positive healing. According to legend, an

evil counterpart — called the Skinwalker — also

holds place within tribal tradition. A familiar trait of

this immoral half-man, half-spirit is its ability to

transform into any animal. Hence, its name.

Whether or not this folklore is true, the rash of un-

plainable activity on the ranch in question is dif-

ficult to deny. Equally mysterious is the fact that

local Native Americans refuse to set foot on the

homestead, for fear of negative reprisals from un-

known forces.

Trouble began for the Gormans almost immedi-

ately after moving to the Skinwalker. Ellen ques-

tioned her own sanity, as she would set cooking

utensils down in the kitchen of her new home,

step outside for a breath of fresh air, and return to

find the items missing. Equally disconcerting was


discovering the implements somewhere strange,

like the freezer or microwave.

Displaced objects became commonplace around

the Gorman household, as Tom's 70 pound post

digger vanished, only to reappear later, lodged

high within a tree.

Ellen would often arrive home from the grocery

store, stock what she'd purchased, leave the

kitchen, and return to find the items she'd shelved

spread all over the floor.

Strange headlights began appearing on the prop-

erty in the dead of night. During one such inci-

dent, annoyed that anyone might trespass upon

his land, Tom approached the source of the illum-

inations; what appeared to be an RV-type vehicle.

As Gorman neared, the machine receded into the

darkness, gliding over 50 foot tree lines, before

noiselessly disappearing into the night.


With an increase in bizarre activity around the

Skinwalker, so too came an expansion of Tom's

curiosity. On more than one occasion, Gorman

found himself creeping surreptitiously about his

property, stalking anomalies.

One evening, Tom discovered a massive aircraft

hovering silently above the ranch, as if searching

for something. Although initially pegging the vehi-

cle as a cross between an F-117A Nighthawk and

a B-2 Stealth Bomber, Gorman quickly realized the

awesome machine was noiselessly floating 20 feet

off the ground. Tom became frightened when he

accidentally made a noise, and the craft whirled

around to face him. The rancher held his breath,

and the silent vessel vanished into the darkness.

A separate incident found Gorman witness to a

large rift in the sky over his property. In time, all

four members of the family would view these ap-


parent holes in the atmosphere. Often near dark

outside, daylight appeared inside the fissures.

Even more unsettling was the time Tom observed

a large, black, triangular object emerging from one

of the openings. To the rancher, it appeared he

was getting a rare glimpse at something from an al-

ternate dimension entering his own existence. This

type of speculation was painful for a devoutly reli-

gious family to consider, but what else could ex-

plain such bizarre anomalies?

During the winter of '94, the herdsman found him-

self on horseback, following the trail of one of his

top breeding cows through the snow. By the ani-

mal’s gait, Gorman surmised the heifer had been

desperate, and running at full speed. But running

from what? The cow's were the only tracks as far

as the eye could see. When Tom followed the trail

to a massive clearing, what he witnessed chilled

him to the bone. There, in the middle of an open


expanse, the frenzied imprints stopped, with no

sign of the animal anywhere. What type of force

was powerful enough to lift a half-ton head of live-

stock into the sky during a driving snowstorm?

Gorman would never see the cow again.

For a herder who prided himself on perfection, the

loss of one animal per year was too much to bear,

let alone the four that would simply vanish in

similar fashion over the next three months. It was

when numerous heads of cattle turned up muti-

lated that Tom became seriously concerned for his

family's livelihood. Even more frustrating was the

fact the animals were being killed and disfigured

in broad daylight, often mere minutes after the

Gormans had seen them alive.

Along with the ubiquitous fear of financial ruin

came a different type of terror. This particular hor-

ror manifested itself in the form of spook lights.

Normally an illumination that disappears when


pursued, in the case of the Skinwalker's enigmatic

effulgence, the orbs were aggressive, flying mere

feet from both Tom and Ellen. What's more, the

lights appeared manufactured, with glass housing

containing blue liquid. On numerous occasions,

the Gormans were left cowering as the orbs nav-

igated around them, apparently capable of evok-

ing extreme anxiety.

June 1996 brought a stranger to the Gorman prop-

erty. Hearing tale of the area's mysterious attrib-

utes, a tall, blonde man appeared one day, asking

if he could meditate on the land. Although Tom

was hesitant, the visitor's near pleading led the

rancher to acquiesce. Gorman took the stranger to

a clearing a mile from the house, where the man

began his introspection.

In the distance, the herder became aware of a

cowbell resonating. The sound puzzled Tom, as

none of his animals wore the crude devices. Be-


hind a nearby copse of trees, Gorman could see

something moving at a high rate of speed. Some-

thing big.

Continuing his meditation, the visitor paid no

mind, as a monstrous wraith, mired in translucent

waves, broke from the woods. Before Tom could

warn his guest, the enormous beast towered over

the blonde man, bellowing forth a thunderous

reverberation. Jarring from his reverie, the stranger

scrambled backward in terror. The huge anomaly

returned to the cover of trees in mere seconds. It

took the rancher several minutes to calm his dis-

traught visitor. Needless to say, the man vowed

never to return to the Skinwalker Ranch.

In Tom's mind, the episode validated the immense

power of what he and his family were up against.

The sight of the creature looming above the medi-

tating man also proved the forces at work may no

longer be hesitant to harm humans. Gorman's


worst misgivings were justified after a group of

blue, fear-inducing orbs appeared on the property

one evening. Curious to see what might transpire,

the rancher unleashed three of his dogs on the

whirring objects. Within moments, he realized he

had made a grave mistake. The spook lights pro-

ceeded to lead the canines behind a growth of

trees, and systematically incinerate the animals. It

was at this point Tom understood he would be

putting his family in tremendous danger, should

they remain on the property. Within hours, the

Gormans had vacated the ranch.

Shortly, thereafter, Tom sold his homestead to the

National Institute for Discovery Science. Funded

by Las Vegas real estate mogul, Robert Bigelow,

NIDS was a collaboration of expert investigators

hell-bent on probing the paranormal.

Armed with a pair of Ph.D. accredited scientists

and a group of top-tier technologists from multiple


disciplines, the organization headed out to the

ranch to see what they could find. In the mean-

time, the Gorman family relocated to a diminutive

farmstead 25 miles away. Tom Gorman signed on

as ranch manager of the Skinwalker, in order to

clarify the mystery surrounding the property.

NIDS began their tour of the homestead with an

investigation of four cattle mutilations. Tom lead

the team to a pair of circular cavities in the ground,

he claimed were remnants of inexplicable aircraft.

With a full briefing of anomalous events, NIDS

hashed out a course of action. For the first time,

whatever mysterious presence was inhabiting the

area became the prey, as opposed to the pursuer.

Although many involved in the project argued ad-

vanced technology was the key to success, an op-

posing faction concluded low-end surveillance

would yield optimal results. Tom sided with the


latter of the two camps, explaining the only time

he got the drop on the strangeness was when he

employed minimal electronic equipment.

Despite Gorman's recommendation, an extensive

network of devices was deployed to ensnare enig-

mas not only in the UV spectrum, but also the

electromagnetic, as well as the magnetic.

A pair of reconnaissance teams, armed with a mul-

titude of surveillance equipment, were sent into

the field on a nightly basis. Both squads consisted

of one or two paranormal researchers and at least

one scientist. An advisory board of 15 top scien-

tific minds would fly into Las Vegas for regular

debriefings from the field investigators.

Apparently, the Gormans' old ranch wasn't the

only property alive with paranormal activity, al-

though it did seem the epicenter of the bizarre dis-

turbances. The team recorded numerous consul-


tations with local residents who had experienced

the unexplained.

One horrific account came from a Mr. Gonsalez,

who had discovered a cow — two of its legs bro-

ken — lying in a field on his property. Fearful the

animal was in shock, Gonsalez raced to his ranch

house, and retrieved a blanket with which to keep

the creature warm. When the herdsman returned

five minutes later, the heifer had vanished. Cattle

in the aforementioned condition can't just move

on their own.

Perplexed, the rancher returned home. An hour

later, Gonsalez was astounded, as he peered out

his window and viewed the same cow 50 yards

from her original position. This time, when the

man examined the animal, all four of her legs were

broken. Gonsalez theorized the heifer must have

been lifted into an aircraft on two separate occa-

sions, and dropped from considerable altitude.


Why, then, hadn't the cattleman heard nor seen

the surmised flying machine? His land provided

no place for aerial vehicles to hide.

Three nights following the Gonsalez interview,

NIDS would experience an enigmatic encounter of

their own. On November 13th, at 1:30 AM, two

crew members witnessed a brilliant, yellow light

racing toward them from a nearby ridge. Emitting

no sound, the luminance circled the investigators

before speeding off into the darkness.

As temperatures dipped below zero, the investi-

gative group headed for the warmer confines of

Las Vegas, but remained on call. January 21, 1997

found a frenzied Tom Gorman reporting bizarre

injuries to three calves, sustained during a severe

snowstorm the previous evening. Conditions this

drastic would have prevented predators from ven-

turing into the open and attacking the animals,

who were kept inside a closed corral. Yet, photos


showed a cow with a shredded ear, and two more

cattle with holes poked in their eyelids.

On March 10th, Tom informed NIDS something

inexplicable had dismembered a prized calf dur-

ing the day, while he and Ellen were in close prox-

imity. According to the cattleman, neither he nor

his wife heard nor saw a thing.

Five hours later, three members of NIDS had flown

in from Vegas and were examining the carcass of

the dead beast.

Whatever killed the calf had been exceedingly

powerful, able to rip the animal's leg bones from

their knee sockets. Even more peculiar was the fact

the creature's four severed appendages were posi-

tioned methodically around the body, itself. The

internal organs of the cow were missing, and not a

single drop of blood remained in, on or near the

beast. NIDS' veterinarian determined one of the


animal’s ears had been sliced off by a razor-sharp

instrument.

Three of Gorman's dogs, no strangers to tracking

predators, had subsequently huddled in their ken-

nels, refusing to come out for food or water. The

fourth canine had raced off in the direction of the

calf's killer, and would never be seen again.

With the partial NIDS team on site, another inci-

dent rocked the property after 11 PM, when the

remaining dogs began barking maniacally. In re-

sponse, Gorman and the crew jumped into the

ranch manager's pickup, and raced onto the

homestead. Viewing a cow in trouble, Tom aimed

his vehicle at a nearby tree. That's when all four

present saw two massive, reflective eyes gazing

forth from the darkness. Braking to a halt, Gorman

grabbed his rifle and fired a shot at whatever was

hidden in the foliage 20 feet above the ground.


The eyes blinked out. Tom raced to the spot be-

neath the tree, only to discover the area empty.

The rancher would once again catch sight of the

creature, and fire two more rounds into it. Again,

the anomaly would vanish, leaving the four men

cautiously searching for what Gorman described

as a 400 pound beast. Although there were no

traces of blood, a pair of huge tracks, with appar-

ent talons, were discovered in the snow.

Tom informed NIDS he had seen a pair of crea-

tures, one in the tree, the other on the ground.

Able to fell a predator from 500 yards, he claimed

to have hit both beasts, the first with the initial

round, the second with the last two.

NIDS was left with almost no physical evidence to

substantiate their encounter. This trend would

prove indicative of the group's overall experiences

at the Skinwalker. Anomalous events never fol-

lowed any pattern. Thereby, scientists were unsure


where to focus their data collecting equipment.

Still, investigative teams were able to corroborate

one another's reports, ensuring researchers some-

thing beyond their comprehension was occurring.

Neighbor testimony lent credence to the superna-

tural origin of what was happening. If the Gormans

were fabricating a lie, their efforts were thorough.

To achieve such a feat, collusion with countless

acquaintances would have been necessary.

The scientists began to feel as if some type of force

was toying with them. During one particular in-

stance, a researcher spotted a massive, black entity

moving through a copse of trees in front of him.

Whatever he gazed upon was large enough to

block out the stars. The man began screaming.

Racing to their colleague's side, the investigators

discovered their associate bewildered and horri-

fied. The frazzled scientist claimed whatever he


encountered had somehow penetrated his mind,

informing him it was watching the team. The in-

dividual, an esteemed academic, appeared to

have his entire belief system shaken.

Among the more prevalent enigmas witnessed by

NIDS were inexplicable lights displaying malicious

intent. Such was the case when a pair of myste-

rious, blood-red spook lights attacked Tom's herd,

causing the animals to race headlong over a 15

foot cliff. When all was said and done, two more

cows would be injured, one would die, and a

fourth would be aborted.

It should be noted the most common UFO wit-

nessed throughout history is the mysterious light.

Lest one forget the unexplained "foo fighters" ob-

served by Allied and Axis pilots, or the strange

spheres ineffectually tracked by radar and fighter

jets over the White House in 1952.


On the evening of August 25, 1997, whilst survey-

ing the ranch, two scientists witnessed a glowing

opening in the distance. From within the portal, a

black, faceless 400 pound humanoid emerged,

dropping onto the ground and escaping into our

current dimension. Moments later, the opening

vanished. The entity disappeared, as well, but only

from view, as the men realized they were alone, in

the dark, with a being from another reality.

Cautiously, the scientists set out to acquire evi-

dence from their sighting. Although the creature

never manifested again, the pair of researchers did

detect a distinct odor in the vicinity where the

beast had crawled on its stomach and elbows. A

thorough search for footprints revealed nothing, as

the ground in the region was too hard to absorb

impressions.

In time, NIDS scientists mounted six CCTV cam-

eras at one of the more active regions on the prop-


erty. One evening, Tom noticed three of the de-

vices were no longer working, their electronics

violently gutted. Fortunately, an undamaged cam-

corder had been pointing toward the vandalized

cameras. As a result, whomever, or whatever evis-

cerated the equipment should have been caught

on video. Upon examining footage from the oper-

ating camcorder, NIDS was astonished to find no

unusual activity on the tape, even during the time

stamp displayed at the moment the three other

devices were destroyed.

Eventually, activity on the ranch dissipated, even

though anomalous encounters continued in the

Uinta Valley. Despite the fact the members of NIDS

witnessed the enigmatic whilst at the Skinwalker,

they felt they had missed their opportunity to cap-

ture evidence validating these experiences.

The fear emitting from the Gormans was almost

tangible, whereas NIDS displayed a more intrepid


demeanor. The assemblage of scientists hunted

anomalies, whilst Tom and his family were the

hunted. The Gormans had minimal technology at

their disposal, as opposed to the barrage of elec-

tronics employed by the researchers.

Had these variances in approach produced the

disparity in results?

In the words of one NIDS delegate, "We know so

little in terms of what the overall scope of these

phenomena are that it's just embarrassing to try

and make some conclusions at this point. Imagine

that you have a phenomena that is very selective

as to how it exposes itself and to whom. So if you

have a tailgate, football stadium-type of atmos-

phere and everybody's got hotdogs and hambur-

gers and they're barbecuing and waiting for the

UFOs to come down, I don't picture a continua-

tion of the activity."


In conclusion, the National Institute for Discovery

Science spent eight years on the Skinwalker

Ranch. Such exhaustive field research is unparal-

leled in the realm of the paranormal. NIDS is

certain the enigmatic disturbances on the farm-

stead were not the result of an elaborate fabrica-

tion by the Gorman family, themselves.

Tom and his clan are "rock-solid, firmly grounded,

honest people." The Gormans never made a dime

from their story. Neither did their neighbors. In

fact, numerous ranchers in the region lost consid-

erable capital due to cattle deaths. In addition,

"dozens of the most disturbing incidents were per-

sonally witnessed and documented by NIDS sci-

entists and researchers. The Gormans did not —

and could not — manufacture them."

Tom and his family have subsequently moved out

of state. To this day, they refuse to grant interviews.


Could whatever enigmas once present at this Hot-

spot of High Strangeness have been so intelligent,

they orchestrated who would experience them?

The answer to this question, as well as so many

others regarding the Skinwalker Ranch, currently

eludes us.

This paranormal destination is privately owned,

furtively located, and inaccessible to the public.

115

Epilogue

Like asking someone who's blind if they've been

seeing anyone lately, it's just wrong to trespass on

private property.

Exhibit caution and respect when visiting any of

the locations detailed in this book.

Who knows? Should you pick this publication up

25 years from now, perhaps some of its subject

matter will no longer be science fiction, but rather

science fact.

117

Bibliography

The Ghost Bus of Highway 93 (Arizona)

http://www.wickenburg-az.com/2003/10/ghost-bus-prowls-highway-93/

Treat, Wesley. (2007). Weird Arizona: Your Travel Guide to Arizona's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 178–179. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739389

Dulce's Deadly Ditch (New Mexico)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roscoe_Hillenkoetter

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Dempsey

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_Cliff,_Colorado

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UFO_Watchtower

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nightmare_Hall


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Continuity_of_government

http://www.denverpost.com/ranger/ci_6069771

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/co-ghostlights.html

http://www.ufowatchtower.com/

http://www.ufocasebook.com/christatilton.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8KQwJzKadso&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRYW-PiTbNE&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_mfCn7GqJA&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZV9k86V4fPc&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gbfeZVBzBTk&feature=related

Bibliography 119

Birnes, William J. (2004). The UFO Magazine UFO Encyclopedia: The Most Comprehensive Single-Volume UFO Reference in Print. pp. 157, 199. Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. ISBN: 0743466748

Coleman, Loren. (2001, 2007). Mysterious America: The Ultimate Guide to the Nation's Weirdest Wonders, Strangest Spots, and Creepiest Creatures. p. 297. ISBN: 1416527362

Piccard, George. (1999). Liquid Conspiracy (Mind Control and Conspiracy Series). pp. 109–114. Adventures Unlimited Press. ISBN: 0932813577

Sauder, Richard, Ph.D. (2001). Underwater and Underground Bases: Surprising Facts the Government Does Not Want You to Know!. pp. 57–59. Adventures Unlimited Press. ISBN: 0932813887

An Entombed Extraterrestrial (Texas)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_Mitchell#Views_on_UFOs

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aurora,_Texas_UFO_Incident


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8FoBigYifo

UFO Hunters: The Complete Season Two. Prod. John Alon Walz. Perfs. Dr. Ted Acworth, Bill Birnes, James Lurie, Pat Uskert. DVD, 2007. ISBN: 1-4229-3099-8

The Lompoc Giant (California)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giant_(mythology)#Giant_Human_Remains

Bishop, Greg; Oesterle, Joe; Marinacci, Mike. (2006). Weird California: Your Travel Guide to California's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. p. 30. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402733844

A Gravity-Defying Staircase? (New Mexico)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_llarona

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cathedral_Basilica_of_St._Francis_of_Assisi

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Miguel_Mission

Bibliography 121

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loretto_Chapel

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/nm-santafeghosts.html

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/gh-lallorona.html

http://hubpages.com/hub/The-Oldest-House-in-America

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/nm-laposadahotel.html

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/nm-lafondahotel.html

http://www.lorettochapel.com/index.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q6Ho6-Sdghk

The Legend of Ephraim Gray (Massachusetts)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xckgE7WRuog

http://theshadowlands.net/gray.html


Citro, Joseph A. (2005). Weird New England: Your Travel Guide to New England's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 16–17. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402733305

The Kingman UFO Crash (Arizona)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clyde_Tombaugh#Interest_in_UFOs

http://www.ufocasebook.com/Arizona.html

Belzer, Richard. (1999). UFOs, JFK, and Elvis: Conspiracies You Don't Have to Be Crazy to Believe. p. 164. The Ballantine Publishing Group. ISBN: 0345429184

Randle, Kevin D. (2010). Crash: When UFOs Fall From the Sky: A History of Famous Incidents, Conspiracies, and Cover-Ups. pp. 160–175. New Page Books. ISBN: 1601631006

An Invisible Portal in the Desert (New Mexico)

http://www.weirdnewmexico.com/stories/MikeSmith02.html

Bibliography 123

http://www.local-iq.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=802&Itemid=80

http://www.wunderkabinett.co.uk/damndata/index.php?/archives/1133-Hotspots-of-High-Strangeness-The-Lordsburg-Gate.html

The Meanest Ghost Ever? (South Carolina)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lavinia_Fisher

Manley, Roger. (2007). Weird Carolinas: Your Travel Guide to North and South Carolina's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 191–195. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739397

Southern Haunts: Ghosts of the Low Country. Dir. Zac Adams. Perfs. Charlie Chase. Prod. Zac Adams, BJ Brown. DVD, 2007

Mobsters, Monsters and a Bottomless Pit (Nevada)

http://www.newsreview.com/reno/content?oid=21708


http://www.trails.com/all-hotels/points-of-interest.aspx?poi=64906

Bishop, Greg; Oesterle, Joe; Marinacci, Mike. (2006). Weird California: Your Travel Guide to California's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. p. 91. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402733844

Oesterle, Joe; Cridland, Tim. (2007). Weird Las Vegas and Nevada: Your Alternative Travel Guide to Sin City and the Silver State. pp. 80–81. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739400

The Mysterious Thunderbird Photograph (Arizona)

http://www.weird-encyclopedia.com/thunderbird.php

http://www.cryptomundo.com/cryptozoology/thunderbirds/

Treat, Wesley. (2007). Weird Arizona: Your Travel Guide to Arizona's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 88–89. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739389

Bibliography 125

High Strangeness at the Skinwalker Ranch (Utah)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skinwalker_Ranch

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Institute_for_Discovery_Science

http://www.8newsnow.com/Global/story.asp?S=4275629

http://www.skinwalkerranch.org/

http://www.google.com/maps?ie=UTF8&oe=UTF-8&hl=en&q=&om=0&z=17&ll=40.25843,-109.887861&spn=0.002096,0.004442&t=h

http://www.aliendave.com/Article_PathoftheSkinwalker_p1.html

http://www.aliendave.com/Article_PathoftheSkinwalker_p2.html

http://www.ufoevidence.org/documents/doc1200.htm


Kelleher, Colm, Ph.D.; Knapp, George. (2005). Hunt for the Skinwalker: Science Confronts the Unexplained at a Remote Ranch in Utah. Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. ISBN: 1416505210

127

About the Author

Hugh Mungus wrote four episodes for the televi-

sion series The X-Files. Fortunately for you, the

viewer, none of his scripts were ever produced.

Hugh is the author of S.C.A.M.: The Screenwriter's

Code to Accumulating Millions, an underground

publication read by three people total, including

Hugh, himself.

While traversing the planet in search of the para-

normal, Mr. Mungus does his best to keep Jack

Daniel's in business.

129

Author’s Note

All Websites provided in this book were active at

the time of publication.

Since the Internet is subject to more changes than

the diapers of a baby with dysentery, online ad-

dresses here today may be gone, tomorrow.

Destinations Across Paranormal America

Travel

Transcript of Destinations Across Paranormal America